


public displays of affection

by remy (iamremy)



Series: askbox prompts (multifandom) [9]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Post-Canon, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, tormund is so done with jon's precious southron sensibilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 17:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: szamanita asked:Jonmund! 02Jon's still shy about PDA. Tormund's over it.





	public displays of affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Louhetar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhetar/gifts).

> jon and northerners must seem so straightlaced and boring to the free folk sdfgh

Jon had been shy about it at first, about Tormund’s tendency towards displaying affection in front of others. He’s been raised to be extremely private in his personal matters, side effects of being both a Northerner and Lord Eddard Stark’s son, and he’s not used to the free folk yet, the way they’re so open with their affection and their love. It’s not uncommon to see lovers holding hands as they walk, mothers unashamedly showering kisses upon their children, siblings leaning against each other as they go to sleep after a long day of exertion.

Tormund, though, it seems goes above and beyond.

Jon had jumped, the first time Tormund had reached for his hand and held on to it as they’d been walking. It had made Tormund laugh, the sound coming from deep inside his chest, rich and delighted. “Uppity Southerners,” he’d teased.

“‘M not a Southerner,” Jon had mumbled, blushing.

“Hold my hand and prove it, then,” Tormund had demanded. And, well, Jon was never one to back down from a challenge, of _any_ kind.

So he got used to the hand-holding, and then he began initiating it, and he supposed that was that.

And then Tormund starts with the kissing.

At first it’s just quick pecks on the cheek whenever he does something that puts that fond look on Tormund’s face. It makes him go red head to toe, which makes Tormund (and the rest of the free folk) laugh_, _and tease him about his sensitive Southern sensibilities, or whatever. But he can’t deny that he likes it, likes how warm it makes him feel inside, and how happy Tormund looks when he gets to do it.

And then Tormund graduates on to kissing his knuckles whenever they’re sitting together hand in hand. Just as Jon begins getting used to that, Tormund decides it would be a good idea to kiss his temples or his forehead. And one particular evening, when they’re all sitting by the fire and unwinding after their dinner, Tormund pulls Jon in close, and drops a kiss to the tip of his nose for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and then goes back to his ale like everything’s normal.

Well, to him, it is, but Jon is blushing so hard he can _feel_ the warmth radiating off his skin in waves, and everyone else is laughing at him, making him flush even more. “Redder’n Tormund’s hair,” roars one of the men by the fire, and that sets everyone off again.

“I’m just not used to it,” Jon tries to tell them. “It’s not how we did things in the South– I mean, at Winterfell–”

But no one’s listening, because apparently he must look quite a sight. Tormund is grinning into his ale now, the arse, and it’s that more than anything else that sends a flare of unexpected defiance through Jon. Is this how they do it here, then? Fine. He can do that. He can absolutely do that.

“You fucker,” he growls, low in his throat, and pulls Tormund’s ale away from him before kissing him soundly on the mouth.

This is so unexpected that Tormund freezes, going absolutely still even as Jon all but throws himself at him. Then he comes back to life, arms going around Jon, and starts kissing him back with the kind of enthusiasm and vigor that Jon’s only seen him dedicate to ripping someone apart with a sword.

And _oh_, oh but it’s _good_, and Jon can hear someone whistle, the free folk bursting out in laughter again. This time it’s got more of an appreciative tone to it though, with a few cries of “Well done, crow!” and “Look at ‘im go!” and Jon finds himself grinning into the kiss. He doesn’t even care that they’re all watching, they’re all seeing _exactly_ what he’s doing with his mouth, the fact that he’s half in Tormund’s lap already, and that his trousers are beginning to get tighter at the groin.

“Well, well, well,” says Tormund when they break apart. Jon’s gasping for air, and Tormund is licking his lips, and there is a heat in his eyes that has nothing to do with the fire. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Snow.”

“I think you’ll find,” Jon tells him, punctuating every other word with shallow kisses to his mouth, “that I’m full of surprises.”

“Known that for a while,” Tormund reminds him, and begins kissing back.

This time, though, the free folk don’t appreciate the show as much; someone throws the remainder of a bone at Jon and it hits him in the shoulder, distracting him. “All right, take it inside now!” yells the culprit.

“You’re just upset because you’ve been alone so long your pecker’s in danger of falling off!” Tormund calls back over Jon’s shoulder.

Jon laughs at the vehement cursing that follows. “No, let’s definitely go back inside, though,” he tells Tormund. “I’m not _that_ comfortable with all of this just yet.”

“Inside it is, then,” Tormund says decisively, and all but drags Jon to their tent by the hand. Jon, for his part, can’t stop laughing, feeling drunk on it, the warmth in his cheeks and the laughter of his people following him to the privacy of his and Tormund’s quarters.

Some free folk customs he could definitely get used to, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought!
> 
> love,  
remy x


End file.
